


Gravity of You -The Starset Series- Chapter 5

by Antigravity_Carnivore



Series: The Starset Series [5]
Category: Breaking Benjamin (Band), STARSET (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Angst, Demons, Fluff and Angst, Inspired by Music, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 00:15:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9466946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antigravity_Carnivore/pseuds/Antigravity_Carnivore
Summary: Dustin begins work on a new album, trying to sort out the pieces of his life, but there's always a looming darkness...





	

GRAVITY OF YOU—Part 5 of the Starset Series 

My eyes felt incredibly heavy. Taking my glasses off, I tossed them onto the table in front of me and watched them skitter across the surface and come to a halt in beside the glowing computer monitor in front of me. The flickering light illuminated my small work space which was filled with sheets of paper, some crumpled up, and some nicely stacked, next to a towering city of empty alcohol bottles. I rubbed my aching eyes, temporarily blurring out the windows of musical information on the screen. Sighing, I looked at the flashing cursor in front of me, and leaned back in my chair uttering a low profanity. That damn thing was ready to go, waiting for me. My head was starting to hurt, and my stomach painfully reminded me that I hadn’t eaten all day. Glancing at the clock, I noticed the time was 4 a.m. Fuck. I took off my headphones and stood up, letting my body fully stretch out. Every inch of my muscles felt ragged and tired from sitting in the same position all day, and now decided that it was their time to protest and rebel against my movements. I fumbled around, knocking several bottles and cans off the desk, to find a nearly empty bottle of whiskey that I had over looked earlier. Grabbing it, I downed the shot or two that was in the bottom and tossed it aside. It would have to suffice to be enough to get me going through, at least until I finished this last song. Flopping back down into my chair, I hovered the mouse over the ‘PLAY’ button and hesitated for a moment. A static flicker of electronic noise flashed over the monitor for half of a second. It startled me and I drew my hand back. Feedback perhaps? The monitors and mixers were all plugged in and functioning properly, must have been a glitch. I reached for the mouse again and the image jumped. I immediately withdrew my fingers and stared at the stationary screen with wonder and interest. As I stood there, pondering the possible source of the distortion, the lights in the room dimmed slightly, and I could hear a faint electronic buzz as they too flickered, powering down and then back on again without any explanation. Standing completely still now I watched as the monitor screen filled up with electronic snow and various test patterns danced across the glass, then I heard it, a very low sound, underneath all the feedback and static, a voice coming from the speakers. 

“I will…”

I knew that voice! Almost discernible, I immediately reached down and cranked the volume up on the mixers to as loud as it could go, ignoring the deafening screech that now filled the room. I heard something, I knew I did. Trying to concentrate, my ears could not pin point the vocal sound over the white noise. Throwing myself back into the chair, I grabbed for the headphones and slid them on, forcing the plug into the output jack as fast as I could. My trembling fingers flew over the sliders and buttons on the sound board, adjusting pitch, tone, and wave length, anything to hear that voice again. My eyes scanned over the still flickering monitor, trying to focus on the ever changing images to isolate the sound, and then I found it. All other sound ceased. I leaned forward and stared at the bars and waves on the screen that marked the voice. I pointed the mouse over the play button and hesitated for a moment, concentrating and staring at the screen in front of me as if it were a microscope and I was examining some deadly virus. Taking a breath, I clicked the triangle. 

“I will find you.”

My stomach pitched, my chest felt hollow. I couldn’t tear my eyes off the screen. The voice echoed in my headphones over and over, repeating the phrase. I felt a lump in my throat, cutting off the breath from my lungs. The hand that rested over the mouse begun to shake. It couldn’t be…. I watched the cursor move from left to right, over the bars again and again, clearly repeating those words with crystal clear clarity. Immediately, I duplicated the track and saved it. Adjusting a few things, I was intent on making it sound as perfect as I could. It was imperative that I heard it. I didn’t move or blink, I sat motionless in my chair and let it play, too stunned to react. 

Without warning, the door to the recording room opened up, and caused me to jump, nearly falling out of my chair. I looked up to see Brock, looking as if he had just been jostled out of bed, glaring at me. Only dressed in a loose fitting pair of boxer shorts, and with his hair messed up, this was a rare sight to see, usually choosing to keep his appearance impeccable. He casually leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest and spoke to me with a matter-of-factly voice. “I know that you’re busy working down here and all but to the rest of the world it’s 4 a.m. and we’d like to get some sleep—and…uh..” he stopped and the expression on his face changed from annoyed to concerned. I took off the headphones and gave him a questioning look.  
I clicked a button that minimized the mixing program I was working on and bought up the desktop. “What are you saying?”

“Ah Dustin…” he pointed at me, and at that moment I suddenly felt light headed and ill. My nose had started to bleed abruptly and a river of blood was slowly dripping down from my face. I brought my hand up, trying my best to stop the flow and got up, rushing past Brock and to the bathroom.

I took two steps at a time, cursing as I tripped over shoes and discarded cardboard boxes, as the blood flowed freely from between my fingers and down my arm. By the time, I reached the sink; the front of my shirt was riddled with many droplets of blood. I grabbed handfuls of tissues and held them against my face, trying my best to keep my hand from trembling. Looking up into the mirror, I glanced at the reflection and cringed at the gaunt, ghastly paleness of my skin. I had been working for weeks writing the new material, and it was starting to take its toll on me. The days and nights seem to all roll into one long stretch of time, where I would only find time to eat in between bouts of intense lyric writing, and an occasional nap when my body decided it needed a recharge. Brock and the others were concerned, but kept their distance. I knew that they wanted to be out on the road again, playing to full houses and packed crowds, but were faithful to me and respected my decisions. Well, to a certain extent anyway. After announcing that I wanted to work on a new project, the whole house was buzzing with different ideas and plans to get together to just start jamming and work on the new tunes. Everyone was so excited, except for me. This album was going to be my way of coping with the loss of Benjamin. It had occurred to me that I had never dealt with the grief of losing him. I came to the conclusion that the incident on the beach wasn’t real. It was my subconscious way of disposing with the emotions that I had built up inside of me. It was so hard to know the truth of what happened to him, that no matter what I tried, I couldn’t get it out of my head. So I wrote the new album to bring him back to life, even if only in my head. Let the others think whatever they like, I knew the real cathartic reason for the music, and that was all that mattered.

Brock silently entered the bathroom and sat down on the edge of the tub as I tossed the tissues away, ignoring the massive amount of blood soaked into them and grabbed for more, shoving them into my nose. He looked more concerned now than annoyed, and that bothered me more than anything. He worried about me far too much. I ran some water and started to wash the already dried blood off my hands, watching as it swirled down the drain. “Are you going to give me a lecture now?” I asked, trying not to sound too snarky.

He ran his fingers through his hair, obviously debating what to say. “Look Dustin, I am not going to criticize you on your working habits, we all know that you are doing this for the band. They really appreciate the fact that you’ve been working your ass off down there, trying to get this record perfect. You can’t help it that you’re such a goddamn perfectionist.” Brock laughed.

The blood had finally stopped and I soaked a washcloth in warm water and started wiping off my face, listening to him. “There is so much pressure on you, on your shoulders and sometimes it’s just hard to get out from underneath it. Every single word you write is done with such emotion and passion that people love it, but they don’t see the toll it takes on you. We do.” Brock hesitated for a moment, standing up, he moved in front of me, wedging his body between mine and the sink. His hands reached down and grabbed the hem of my bloodstained t-shirt and he pulled it up, over my head. I felt the slight sway of the fabric as it slid over my skin and fell to the floor, discarded. Taking the washcloth from my hand, he spread it out and ran it over the side of my face, down the slope of my neck and over my chest. The warmth felt good as it covered my skin, so revitalizing and refreshing. He brought his hand down, swirling the towel over my bare flesh, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. I leaned in against him, pushing his body slightly against the sink, wanting to feel his bare flesh against mine. In response, he brought his hands to my hips and closed the gap between our bodies, and kissed me. The tender touch of those lips on mine exploded into a wave of pleasure that washed over me, engulfing every nerve that it could reach, sending me into a instant euphoria. I met those lips and kissed him back passionately, inhaling deeply and taking the air from his lungs. His fingers gripped my hipbones so tightly; I thought he would shatter them. I closed my eyes and ran my fingers up his shoulders to the locks of his sandy blond hair; greedily devouring the kiss that he offered like it was my last breath of air. His slender frame fit perfectly against mine, and I could feel the soft, loose fabric of his boxer shorts brush up against my tight jeans. Moving his head slightly, he moved away from my lips and kissed the side of my neck. Each touch of his lips was so soft and unbelievably exhilarating. He swirled his fingers down to the front of my jeans and over my navel. I opened my eyes and looked past him to the mirror in front of me and marveled at this beautiful young man’s body entwined with mine. It felt right, it felt perfect. No hate, no animosity, nothing but his pure, passionate touch.

Brock’s fingers went to the front of my pants and loosened them, I couldn’t believe how soothing it was to have him touching me like this. My body felt burnt and scarred with everything I had been through, and now his touch was so calming, so cooling that it enlivened and refreshed me, making me feel something more than I had ever felt before. I felt truly alive. He peeled the tight denim of my jeans down and I stepped out, casting the useless piece of material away. Bringing his body back close to mine again, I wrapped my arms around him, noticing how thin and slender his ribs were, delicate and fragile, but still capable of holding in a multitude of emotions and feelings. I moved and caressed the sides of his body, letting my fingers feel each rib, each muscle, every single inch that I could. He reached up and put his hands flat against by chest, pushing me backwards, doing it so suddenly that it caught me off guard and I reeled back, almost falling. I looked at him questioningly, and he gave me a soft smile and came over to steal a quick kiss from my lips, and then reached around me to turn on the shower behind me. “You stink, get in.” I noted the change of tone in his voice, it was teasing or playful, but serious and commanding, it shocked me. 

I raised my eyebrow and did as I was told. “You know this is the second time you've put me in the shower, Brock.” I said flatly.

“Yeah I know and I bet that it won't be the last either.” he chortled, then much to my dismay, he reached up and yanked at the shower curtain, drawing it closed and leaving me alone. I stood there for a few moments, uncertain, waiting, and trying to calm myself down a bit. I fumbled with the water, anxious to have that hot, steamy vapor fill my lungs and clear my head. Within a few moments, the room began to fill up with humid warmth, and I stepped under the shower head and closed my eyes, letting the scalding water wash over my body. Then I felt a touch on my shoulder. I opened my eyes, blinking back past the stinging water and saw Brock, stepping inside, and coming to stand directly in front of me. His thin body glistening with wet droplets of water, cascading down his torso was a truly beautiful sight. He stood underneath the flow of water and let it soak his hair, and then took a step towards me, pulling my body tight against his so that every part of us was touching and devoured my lips again with an intense, lustful kiss that left me reeling. I wrapped my arms around him and let the water wash over both of us, our bodies locked together, both physically and mentally. His fingertips reached up and caressed the sharp line of my jaw, and then following a trickle of water, let it guide him down the length of my body, stopping between my legs. As those delicate fingers wrapped around my hardness, my lips parted, breaking off the kiss and I inhaled and held the breath in my lungs, enjoying the moment of pure delight. Those talented guitarist fingers knew exactly how much pressure to place on the skin, easing them up and down the length, lubricated by the warm water. Brock placed his other hand along side of my cheek and rested his forehead against mine, whispering to me.

“Dustin, I don't think you know how much I love you. I wanted this, wanted you for so long that I cannot imagine being this close to anyone else. I want to share everything with you, because you are everything to me.” I looked into his eyes while he spoke, they were bright and vibrant, filled with loyalty and sincerity. I had known this man for years, been through hell together with him, but I had never seen the light in those eyes as much as I did when he looked at me. “I care about you so much because the music you write is beautiful, those words, they speak to my heart. I'd die for you, Dustin, do you know that? I don't care who tries to come between us, I will never let it happen, because I love you.” Once again, he brought his lips to mine, and delivered a exquisite kiss to accentuate his final thought, as he took full hold of my shaft and stroked it lovingly. “And... I want you. Right now.” 

To hear those words, spoken with such adoration and intent was too much for me. My eyes filled up with tears which streamed down my cheeks, along with the water from the shower. Words formed in my head, which I was unable to speak audibly. All I could do was stare at this person in front of me, baring his body and soul to me offering me his entire world. I reached down and removed his hand, bringing it to my lips and kissing it. His eyes met mine and exploded a universe of pride. I grabbed his slender body and pulled it close to my chest. The hot water poured down between us and I brought my lips to his ear and whispered. “I love you too, Brock.”

I could feel his body melt. It was the best sensation in the world. I held him so tight, not wanting to let him go. We kissed again, and then he slowly turned around, closing his eyes and dampening his hair under the water once again. I looked at his gorgeous body, glittering with a hundred pinpoints of light, refracted by the water droplets, standing so stately in the steam filled shower and knew that it was right. Moving in behind him, he glanced at me over his shoulder and I saw the look of expectation in his eyes. So beautiful they were, positively beaming with angelic innocence and radiance. Brock reached out and placed his arms against the front of the shower, and I brought my lips down to the back of his neck, kissing the damp skin at the top of his spine. I explored the smooth canvas of skin that ran down the sides of his body, and over his strong hips, letting my fingers discover every inch of flesh, slowly, desperately wanting to prolong the excitement from the moment. My own body was on fire, whether from the temperature of the water assaulting us, or from becoming so intently aroused, I wasn't sure. Brock reached around and guided me closer to him, and I let my throbbing shaft slide against his rear, the running water providing the perfect amount of friction between us. He bent over, looking utterly magnificent, all soaking wet, and I whispered to him. “Brock, are you sure about this?” I asked.

He took a moment, and said with confidence. “I know I love you, and I want to be with you, forever... but the only way to truly love someone is to give up a little part of yourself. So I will answer your question with another. Are you willing to let yourself go, and let me love you, forever?”

I took a breath, my heart and body was aching so much for him, for us. He turned back to enjoy the warmth of the water again, and I grasped him by the hips, thrusting forward and slowly easing myself into him. A small cry escaped his lips and I started to withdraw, but he reached around, guiding me, assuring me. Our bodies moved together, grinding against each other as I went deeper and deeper. Everything in the world seemed to fade away, and I only knew this intense rapturous, joy and delight. I could feel him clenching against me, and I dug my hands in, feeling each movement he made as we moved together in perfect rhythm. Anxious and nervous at first, the apprehension washed away, taking with it my inhibition and reluctance. The feeling of being buried inside of him, so tight and warm, penetrating deeper with each thrust left me wanting more. Brock took one hand away from the wall and grasped his own engorged cock, moaning my name as he maneuvered his thin fingers along the length, tenderly touching the inflamed skin with such precision as if he were playing his guitar. I felt myself beginning to reach the limit, and I quickened my pace, and he leaned his head back, letting the water wash down his face and to the front of his chest. My body began to twitch and shudder, and Brock whispered over his shoulder. “It's alright, Dustin. Don't be afraid. Let it go.” It was then in that early morning shower that I found something to quiet the voices inside of my head, something to truly give me the peace that I needed. Little did I know, it was right beside me all the while. 

The shower lasted for a long time, both Brock and I so completely lost in the moment, even failed to notice that the night had slipped away, and morning was upon us. Only when the temperature of the water started to drop did we retreat hastily to the bedroom. I closed off the curtains, and stretched out on the bed, curling up beside him, as it was meant to be. Our legs entwined and bodies wrapped together perfectly. The sheets on the bed never felt so soft underneath me before as they did then. It was if I was noticing everything in a new light. Brock was in a state of half slumber when I draped an arm over his chest and kissed the back of his head. He rolled over and ran his fingers through my hair, looking more beautiful than ever. “I love you, don't ever leave me. Promise that you will be here next to me when I wake up?” he whispered.

For the first time in my life, I spoke without hesitation and kissed him again. “I promise. I'm not going anywhere. I love you, Brock.”

I was drifting in a vast black haze-like sleep of unconsciousness, when I heard something. I knew I was dreaming so I tried my best to ignore it, however it was like the feeling you get when there is something in the corner of your eye. You can't see it, but you can feel it, just out of the edge of your vision, irritating you until you do something about it. I tried to concentrate on it. It wasn't music; it wasn't white-noise or static, but something else. Something... familiar. A frightful feeling started to creep over me. Inside of my dream, I felt cold. I listened again, and this time it was clearer. It was a voice. No no no no! I refused to acknowledge that it was a human voice at all. It couldn't be. This was a dream. But it was, and I knew who it belonged to. The soft, soothing darkness inside of my dream was shattered by a bright, intense light that seared into my eyeballs. The voice echoed loudly inside of my head and made it feel as though it was going to crack open and split apart at the seams. I made myself listen to the words. I had to. “I will find you.” I cringed at the tone of the voice. It felt savage and ferocious. I felt as though the oxygen was being sucked out of my lungs. “…and I will destroy everything you love.” 

I quickly sat up in bed, gasping for breath. I looked around; Brock was still sleeping peacefully next to me, completely wrapped up in bedsheets, with a smile on his face. I breathed a silent sigh of relief; it was a dream, nothing more. I rubbed my hands over my face and let my body sink back down into the plush pillows again, closing my eyes and waiting for sleep. I could hear the clock off in the distance ticking, the sound of the waves crashing on the shore line, and the shrill call of the seagulls outside calling for their dinner, louder than ever. I rolled over and opened my eyes again to look at Brock, laying on his side, the blankets draped majestically over the lower portion of his body, just merely covering up the curve of his buttocks. Each breath he took was steady and strong, full of life and love. I never expected to end up like this, here with him, but it was welcoming from the darkness that I had plunged myself into. He asked nothing of me, made no demands other than that I would love him. I thought of the future, and what would come of all of this. Here was this brilliant young man, so talented in his musical ability, with his whole life ahead of him, with absolutely no other dream in life other than to be with me. It made me feel both wonderful and uncomfortable at the same time. When Brock was near me, I felt as though I could stand strong against the world with him at my side. One look into those innocent eyes was all the proof I needed of that. It had suddenly occurred to me that I did love him. Admitting this to him last night was the catharsis that I needed to move my life forward. 

I glanced over at the clock. It was nearly 4 p.m. I was utterly exhausted. I wanted to go back to sleep so badly, but my body just refused. The dream had startled me right out of sleep, and now I was suddenly fully awake. The dream left me with a lingering feeling of malevolence that was scratching and clawing at the back of my head. My thoughts drifted to Ben and the fact that I might never receive absolution and closure to that chapter in my life. What I felt for him was wrong, it had to be, but when he spoke to me in that low baritone voice and called my name, when he held me in his arms… I lost all hope for myself. I glanced over at Brock, and my heart hurt. I wanted him to understand, I wanted him to know that I wasn’t insane and delusional. Maybe if I could just prove to him why I was plagued with feelings for Ben, show him that I was being mentally assaulted. Then I remembered what I had heard on the audio recording, the voice... and came to the realization that it had been the same as in my dream. I could hear his voice again, if I played that audio just one more time. Yes, I needed to hear it. 

Silently, I slipped out of bed, and pulled on a pair of pants left discarded on the floor. I quietly made my way to the door and pulled it shut without making a sound. I didn’t want to wake him, I’d only be away for a moment. As I walked through the house, I noticed how perfect everything was, while I was spending all my time writing, Brock was dutifully taking care of the house. I was very impressed with him. Finding my way down to the recording studio, I found that the lights had been left on, and all the equipment was still powered up and running from the night before. The only thing out of place was the chair, which I tipped over on my hasty retreat upstairs to stop the nosebleed. I straightened it up and sat down at the mixer, looking at the screen saver that flashed across the monitor in vibrant colors, I wondered if I was doing the right thing. That voice had been taunting me, teasing me, plaguing me after I first heard it, thinking that it was only inside of my head, but now I had proof, real proof that I was not going insane. But… was it proof that I was really after? This entire album had been nothing more than a lie that I created and drew the others into, in my desperate attempt at bringing back what was dead and buried. Maybe it was all because I just wanted to hear his voice again. I reached for the mouse and held my hand over it, reluctant to make that commitment. The audio captured on that track wasn’t meant for anyone else to hear, but I had to listen. I wanted to hear his voice in my ears again. 

One click is all it would take. 

One voice.

His voice. 

Curiosity got the better of me and I clicked the button, waking the computer up and springing it into life. The audio editing program came up along with that blinking cursor, waiting patiently, and demanding input. My eyes searched the screen, looking for the file I had captured, but every track was empty. I did a search of the computer, my fingers flying over the keys, and nothing saved from the previous night was found. Confused and starting to panic, I reloaded the program, hoping to find a lost file to recover it. Almost immediately, an error box popped up, flashing with a red X over it, telling me that there weren't any files to be recovered. I stared, at the screen with a mixture of defeat and anger, frowning. My heart sank, and I pounded my fist down onto the desk. “Fuck.” 

That's when I saw Brock standing there in the doorway; I hadn’t even heard him enter. He looked downcast and sullen. I opened my mouth to say something, but he cut me off. “You just couldn’t leave it alone, could you Dustin?” he shook his head and I could see a tear forming in the corner of his eye. He quickly wiped it away with a harsh swipe of his hand. “If you must know….I deleted it.” Turning around, he grasped the handle of the door and pulled it shut, leaving me alone. 

“Brock!” I called after him, but I could hear his footsteps already at the top of the steps. Something told me to go after him, I didn’t, instead I picked up a pen , staring at my notebook full of scratched out phrases and partial thoughts and started to write lyrics. 

The waves crashed upon the shore in the early morning, underneath a sunless cloud filled ominous sky, the promise of an oncoming storm whispering in the air. I threw on my favorite gray hoodie and stepped quietly outside to get away from the massive amount of cheerful noise coming from inside the apartment. The entire band was here, packing things up and getting ready to embark on the tour to promote our latest record. It had been a long time in the making, months in fact to get us to this point in time. I had worked tirelessly on it, nearly day and night, making it my own personal crusade. I took a long drink from the bottle of whiskey that I had brought outside with me, and felt the warmth spreading through my body with almost instant results. It warded off the cold that was recently present around me, and kept the depressing feelings at bay. The events of the night between Brock and I had seriously affected our relationship permanently and I was helpless to even attempt to fix them. We hadn’t been close to one another since he walked out of the studio that day. I made several attempts to talk to him, to get him to tell me whether or not he listened to the files, and his reasoning behind his decision to delete them, but he was being uncharacteristically quiet about the whole thing. He spent his days with the band, and nights alone in his room. I often thought about just taking him in my arms and telling him how much he meant to me, that everything I had done was done with a reason, but I knew that my words would betray me. So I chose to keep my distance, and he did the same thing for me. When it came time for rehearsal, he seemed to be better around the rest of the guys, but I could tell that when he looked at me, that I had disappointed him. It was the worst feeling ever. You can’t use a broken tool to fix a broken machine. 

I heard the door to the patio open up and I looked up to see Adam, the drummer, step outside. “You almost ready to hit the road Dustin?” he asked, pulling his jacket tight and shivering. “Damn it’s cold out here, how can you be sitting out here for so long?”  
Raising the bottle to my lips, I finished off the last drops of alcohol and tossed the bottle down into the sand. I heard Adam scoff. We hadn’t even started out yet on this tour and I was regretting it. “Is all the gear packed and ready?” I asked, trying to bring my voice out of the flat, monotone pitch. 

Adam shifted from one foot to another, either anxious to get going or nervous around me. “Everything’s ready to go, the bus is idling outside and we’re ready to head out, just waiting on you.” Looking off to the horizon, something in the far off distance down the beach caught my eye. I watched it intently. “Hey Dustin I ugh…know that somethings going on between you and Brock.” I didn’t move, but remained completely still, watching that black dot move closer. “I don’t know what it is, he won’t say and I know sure as hell you won’t talk about it either, but Ron and I think you both need to work it out between the two of you, and soon.” He hesitated for a moment. “Not just for you guys, but for us as well. We’re depending on you to keep us all sane on the tour. At least try. Go talk to him, he will listen, I am sure.” The dark shape was almost in my line of vision.

“It’s not that simple, Adam.”

“I know man, but take a look at you. You are this great song writer, a mastermind of electronic rock music, with a freaking huge fan base of people that love you. You have three people here, standing up there on that stage with you every night, busting their balls to bring your creation to life… and where are you? You are sitting on a fucking porch at 9:00 in the morning drinking yourself to death.” He reached for the door and pulled it open, and called back over his shoulder. “Don’t let your demons win, Dustin, you fought them before and won, you can do it again.”

A voice inside of my head screamed back at him. ‘I didn’t do it alone, I had help, I had Brock!’ Adam went back inside, joining the others and I remained on the deck, lost in my thoughts, my eyes trained on that black shape as it took a turn and came walking over near the apartment. I heard Adam call for me again, and I turned away to go inside and join them. As my fingers wrapped around the handle of the door, I took one last look behind me, down the beach, my eyes searching for that figure. I saw it pass me by and stormed inside, laughing like a madman to myself. It was nothing more than an elderly man in a dark colored coat taking his dog out for an early morning walk on the beach. 

The drive to the first venue took several hours. I positioned myself in my usual spot, on the back of the bus, away from everyone else and was hoping for some time to sleep off all the whiskey I had just consumed, but my plans were interrupted by the record company rep deciding that it was the appropriate time to inform all of us of the new VIP rules. Not even caring remotely for rules, I plugged my headphones in and leaned up against the window, trying my best to drown the annoying lecture out, falling into a uneventful, dreamless sleep.

Arriving at the venue, everyone piled off the bus, anxious to be out of the confined space and immediately headed for the dressing rooms. We were headlining, and the band was so excited about all the little details, the personal attention each person was given had them all acting like kids at Christmas. I made myself comfortable in the dressing room in a large plush chair and leaned my head back against the wall. I didn’t feel so well. Ever since we pulled in, I started to feel a tightening pain in my chest, making it difficult to breathe, almost like being underwater. Adam came over to see me and gave me a jab in the arm to get my attention. “Hey, you don’t look so good. Have you learned your lesson about drinking right after you got out of bed in the morning and then taking a 8 hour bus ride?”

I made an attempt at raising my head, but it was too much effort. “Who said I ever went to bed?”

Adam laughed and swatted my knee. “VIP meet and greet with the acoustic set starts in 2 hours, you better either take a power nap to sleep it off, or find a way to perk yourself up really quick, or else the fans are going to be sorely disappointed when they meet their idol.” I groaned and he walked off, leaving me be. I forced myself up and into the bathroom and changed into the usual black jeans and white shirt with a bow tie. I splashed cold water over my face and leaned forward into the sink, letting the water droplets splash down into the basin, watching them with a dull interest as they swirled and sunk down the drain. I had to get myself together, tonight was an important night. I was about to grab for a towel when the door opened up and Brock came in and shut the door behind him.

I didn't move, but stood there with water dripping off my face, in a awkward silence. “Adam told me that you're not feeling so hot, what's up?”

I looked up into the mirror. “Nothing, I just drank too much this morning I suppose.” I smiled, trying to convince myself as well as him. 

Brock handed me a towel and I wiped the water off my face. I felt a little better, but the tightness in my chest still remained. “Hey Dustin...” he reached out and put a hand on my shoulder, and I turned around to face him. There was the Brock that I adored so much. The one that worried, the one that doted on me, I wanted him back so badly. “You got this. We have faith in you.” His sudden words of encouragement were unexpected and I stared at him for a few moments, completely at a loss for words.  
Tossing the towel aside, I put my hand over his only for a moment, remembering how wonderful it was to touch him, but then quickly withdrew it and moved to walk past him. I wanted so badly just to break down and tell him how much I missed him, that I wanted things to go back the way they were, that I still loved him, and wanted to end this nonsense. My heart screamed for me to do so, however my head said no, for fearing of making a bad situation worse. In the end, I chose to say nothing. As I walked past him, he reached the door before me and stood in front of it, leaning against it to prevent me from leaving. “We're not done here yet, Dustin.”  
I raised an eyebrow at him and he reached out to the collar of my shirt, straightening it up for me. “I know how hard you've been working for this, I see it in your eyes every time that I look at you. You've given them something to be proud of, something that they wanted, to be back out on the road again, doing what they do best, which is bringing your music to life.

“What about you, Brock? What do you want?”

He buttoned up the top button of my shirt and pulled the bow tie over, securing it in place and folding the collar neatly over it, avoiding my gaze. “I want you to go out there in front of the VIP and sing. Don't do it for the fans, don't do it for yourself, just sing for me. Tell me what you want me to hear, and I'll listen.” Brock finished with the bowtie and stepped to the side, opening the door for me. I glanced from him to the room outside where the rest of the band and the roadies were gathered. Only Adam and Ron looked in our direction, and were obviously pleased seeing Brock and I exit the bathroom together. 

The next hour flew by quickly, and before I knew it, it was time to head out to the VIP session. First a private meet and greet with the fans for autographs and photos, and then a few acoustic songs as a warm up for the main event. The venue staff led us into a small conference room where I could hear the low murmur of the fans waiting patiently. The door opened up and the cheering started, it was almost deafening. The flashes of the cameras went off, one at a time, making me feel like some sort of famous movie star. We entered the room, single file and made our way over to the autograph table, and I noticed that Brock chose the seat right next to me. Occasionally he would lean over and whisper something to me about the venue and we would enjoy a laugh together. I was starting to regain my confidence. After all the fans had their photo op and autographs, we moved over to the stools that had been arranged for our acoustic set and settled in. I watched as Brock picked up his guitar and positioned it perfectly, only fussing with it for a few moments before he signaled that he was ready. I was more nervous for this performance than I was for the main show. Brock looked over at me, and I could tell what he was thinking. This was my moment, the chance I would have to confess exactly what was on my mind, without even telling him. He adjusted his microphone and kept his eyes on me. “Alright Dustin, let's play some music for these fans tonight. What song will it be?”  
I had an hour to prepare, to choose the song that would be perfect, but I chose to wait and decide on the spur of the moment. Brock looked at me expectantly. I took a breath and spoke into the mic with complete confidence and certainty. The first song that we're going to do for you tonight is, 

“Gravity of You”  
There's a silencing  
As the machine arrives here  
I feel it pulling me  
I feel the past that's died there  
I hear it calling me  
"You can come alive here."  
I hear it beckoning  
Until I am inside...

As the first few notes echoed in the small room, a hush fell over the crowd and I closed my eyes, letting the music flow through me. Each lyric I sang with perfect pitch and tone. I did not sing to impress anyone, but instead inside the darkness, I sang to Brock, intense and agonizing, I poured as much emotion as I could into those notes, hoping, praying that he would hear the sincerity of it all and know how I felt. Each word was burned into my memory and as I sung them out loud, they blazed to life with a consuming flame that set my soul on fire. 

Riding the horizon  
Falling into you  
Feel the vessel tighten  
I feel you pull me through  
A new world is breaking  
Your heart is unveiling  
Breaking into pieces  
In the gravity of you

I started on the second part of the song, opened my eyes, looking over to Brock who was concentrating on the guitar, and he looked up at me for a moment, our eyes meeting and I knew that he understood. The heaviness that rested over my heart began to dissipate and fade away, taking away all the pain and regret. 

I see the empty dreams  
Race across the sky here  
I see energy streams  
Where the ashes lie here  
I feel you here with me  
When all the hope has died here  
It's boring holes in me  
Enough to get inside

The melody of the song flowed out from me, and I looked into the audience, who was completely transfixed, mesmerized by the lyrics. They were feeling the raw emotion behind each word and experiencing it with me. I could see it in their eyes. As I looked out into the small crowd, my eyes fell on someone sitting in the back row, motionless. I shifted slightly to get a better look at the person, but it was no help, I couldn't make out any features. I continued to sing the chorus, inflicting each note with as much emotion that I could put into it. 

Riding the horizon  
Falling into you  
Feel the vessel tighten  
I feel you pull me through  
A new world is breaking  
Your heart is unveiling  
Breaking into pieces  
In the gravity of you

Consumed by the flow of the music, I forgot about everything else, and let it completely devour me. This was an experience that I had not had in a long time, to be able to just sit back and let the music become one with your spirit, melding in with your skin and bones, was intoxicating. The crowd had moved slightly and I saw the person in the back row again. He was sitting on the chair farthest away from the makeshift stage, wearing black jeans and a black hoodie which he had drawn up over his face that gave me an uneasy feeling. I looked over to Brock, and knew that I had nothing to fear. 

To fall in the star is to be nothingness  
To escape is to be empty  
Fall into the star and then we won't exist  
Or escape into the nothing  
Your sky  
The beauty alone is worth it  
I will risk it all to own it  
In the gravity of you

The song ended and the crowd stood up, giving us a standing ovation. Brock put his guitar down for a moment, and I could feel his hand brush against mine. I smiled so widely, feeling like I was invincible, and indestructible. Everything was going to be alright. Then I saw the person in the back lower his hood. It was Benjamin Burnley.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, I had written a massive confrontation in the middle of this chapter, between Brock and Dustin after he reveals that the files had been deleted. The quarrel between the two men lasted several pages and was filled with such hate and anger, (partially fueled by how I was personally feeling when I was writing) that after reading it, I decided it was too much and removed it. Also, it wasn’t in Brock’s nature to spur on an argument between the two. Those of you who know me, know that I do not let my personal life influence my stories at all, instead, the characters live and exist inside my head, and I only act as a personal assistant to them, writing down the stories that they tell me so that everyone can enjoy them. Therefore, when something I am dealing with in real life makes a presence in my prose, it greatly annoys me. After I had written the passage, I went to sleep and in the morning when I read over it, I decided that it shouldn’t be included.  
> That being said, please enjoy this installment of the Starset Series. I am quite sure that there will be more to come. (If they decide to talk to me again)


End file.
